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Updated: June 20, 2025
The latter had already reached the other shore in his flatboat, and presently the little boat put out again with the stranger seated at the stern. "I thought, perhaps, it might be Wetzel," mused the colonel, "though I never knew of Lew's wanting a boat." Jonathan brought the man across the river, and up the winding path to where Colonel Zane was waiting. "Hello!
Then he noticed that it had been freshly cut. "It's Lew's brush," cried Charley. "He must have been here." He sank on his knees close to the blazing bough, and heedless of smoke and flame began to examine the ground carefully. He ran his fingers lightly over the leaves, feeling for footprints. At first he found nothing. Then he discovered the impression of a heel.
I'd just got my money out of the bank when it was held up, and Lew was shot." Pop teetered and gummed his tobacco and grinned foxily. "Shucks! I don't care nothin' about Lew's wife goin', ner I don't care nothin' much about the horse. They ain't no funral uh mine, Bud. Dave an' Lew, let 'em look after their own belongin's." "They'll have to, far as I'm concerned," said Bud.
There's a few of our men coming back now. Stand up, ye drunken little defaulter. By your right quick march!" He slipped the drum-sling over his shoulder, thrust the fife into Lew's hand, and the two boys marched out of the cover of the rock into the open, making a hideous hash of the first bars of the "British Grenadiers."
The word's out that Bud stole Boise. Dave and the boys rode out to round him up and they ain't done it, so they're still riding we'll hope. Kid, you know damn well your gang would double-cross Dave in a minute, now Lew's killed. If they got hold of the horse, do yuh think they'd turn him over to Dave?" "No, you bet your life they wouldn't!" Eddie retorted.
At least, she had plainly stated that he and Lew had been partners though Collier might have been ranching innocently enough, and ignorant of Lew's real nature. At all events, Eddie was a lad well schooled in inequity such as the wilderness fosters in sturdy fashion. Wide spaces give room for great virtues and great wickedness. Bud felt that he was betting large odds on an unknown quantity.
Leighton did not have to look for Lew. He had scarcely reached the flat when Lew came rushing in, a transformed Lew, radiant, throbbing with happiness. "Dad," he cried, "she's said 'Yes. She's going to marry me. Do you hear, Dad?" "Yes, I hear," said Leighton, dully. Then he tossed back his head. He would not blur Lew's happy hour. He held out his hand.
The box came from Carson and Derby, a big New York mail-order concern. Almost everybody in the country around Central City bought articles from mail-order houses, so Lew's letter threw no light on the problem. There might be a green pasteboard box of that particular pattern in every farmhouse in the county.
When finally he came back into the room, his slow hesitating gait and puckered face gave her a suspicion of the truth. "I'm downright sorry, Miss," he began lamely. "Ma's got somethin' ... bad cold or pneumonia ... an' she won't budge. There's only one more bed room an' Lew Yates's wife has got one cot an Lew's mother-in-law has got the other. An' they won't budge. An' ..."
This phase in the great cattleman's character was something new, something rather startling. Dug's way was usually volcanic. It was hot and fierce for a while, generally to hollowed by a hearty laugh, rather like the passing of a summer storm. But this, in Lew's opinion, was a display of weakness. A sign he neither liked nor respected.
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